A Texas Cowboy's Christmas. Cathy Gillen Thacker

      “No,” Molly said, trying hard not to succumb to the unexpected tenderness in Chance’s expression.

      He leaned against the counter, arms folded in front of him, and continued to study her. “Then?”

      Maybe if Chance knew the worst about her, he would forget the sizzling physical attraction between them and realize their backgrounds were too diverse for them to ever be more than casual friends.

      Molly drew a deep breath. “I don’t want to go down the wrong path again.”

      “With me.”

      It upset her to bring this up, but she knew for both their sakes, it had to be said. Chance had to start facing the fact they were and always would be all wrong for each other. “With anyone who was born outside my social standing.”

      His brow furrowed. “You really think I’m that much of a snob?”

      She flushed and dropped her gaze to his muscular chest. “I think, in this respect, you might be as naive as I once was.”

      “I’m listening,” he said.

      Molly grabbed the spray cleaner and paper towels, then began scrubbing down the counters. “I never really dated much after my dad died. I was too busy trying to put myself through school and get my business going.”

      He moved so she could reach behind him. But not quite enough. As she reached, her shoulder lightly brushed his bicep. “Sounds like you had to grow up pretty fast.”

      Molly straightened. “All that changed when Aaron Powell III came to Laramie to look for lakeside property that could be flipped.” She grimaced at the memory. “I was asked to give a bid. I did and won the work on several houses that he and his family purchased.” She removed her apron and hung it back on the hook. Recalling her first taste of unfettered luxury, she admitted reluctantly, “I’d never been friends with anyone that ostentatiously wealthy, and Aaron swept me off my feet.”

      Chance’s expression relaxed in understanding. “How long were you together?”

      “About three months.”

      Taking her by the hand, he guided her onto the stool. Sat down beside her. “You didn’t expect it to end?”

      Molly shrugged, still wishing she hadn’t been quite so naive. Shifting so the two of them faced each other, she said, “I knew Aaron’s life was in Houston, that his shuttling back and forth continuously would stop when my work was done and the lake properties were listed. But I was okay with that. I was perfectly willing to move where he was.”

      Chance’s expression darkened. “He didn’t want that.”

      Humiliation clogged Molly’s throat. “He didn’t think that would go over so well with his fiancée.”

      An awkward silence fell.

      “You had no idea,” Chance guessed in a low, even tone.

      “None,” Molly was forced to admit. Restless, she got up and began to pace the confines of the kitchen. “Unfortunately, I was pregnant by then. And I’d already told him.”

      Giving Chance no more opportunity to ask questions, Molly rushed on. “The next thing I know the Powell family lawyer is at my door with a contract for me to sign. All I have to do is agree—in writing—not to ever publicly acknowledge paternity and a nice six-figure check is mine.”

      Jaw taut, Chance stood. “I’m pretty sure that’s not legal.”

      Molly nodded as he circled the counter and strode closer.

      “I could have forced the issue in court. I also knew if I did that, Aaron and his attorneys would use my modest financial circumstances to allege I was a gold digger and make our lives a living hell. My only priority was to protect my child from hurt.”

      The compassion in Chance’s hazel eyes spurred her to go on.

      “So I hired a lawyer and countered with an offer of my own. I would never pursue any claims of paternity, or child support, if Aaron would promise to do the same and allow me to raise Braden completely on my own.” She drew a breath. “Aaron was more than happy with that, since he didn’t really want children, never mind a bastard son from a woman from a lower social echelon.” Molly wrung her hands and lifted her chin defiantly. “So we signed an agreement...and that was that.”

      Chance searched her face. “Did you ever regret it?”

      Wasn’t that the million-dollar question!

      Molly shrugged, the barriers coming up to protect her heart once again. Steadily, she held Chance’s gaze. “I regret mistaking big, expensive romantic gestures for love. And the fact that Braden doesn’t have the devoted daddy he deserves.”

      His gaze drifted over her, igniting wildfires wherever it landed. “The latter could be fixed,” he pointed out matter-of-factly.

      Maybe someday. For the first time, she was beginning to see that.

      In the meantime, she had the next phase of her life plan to execute. Molly handed Chance the wrapped, freshly baked stollen and escorted him to the door. Wary of her still-sleeping son, she eased it open, then stepped with him all the way out onto the porch. It was unseasonably warm, and the sun sparkled down on them.

      “The point is, even if fate works against us and Braden never gets the loving daddy he deserves, I still have to support my son to the very best of my ability.”

      “Which means?” Chance prodded, suddenly looking a lot less pleased.

      Molly said determinedly, “I’ve got to move to a place where I can make a lot more money than I am now. And give Braden the kind of boundless future that he deserves.”

      And that meant no more getting too friendly with Chance.

      And definitely no more kissing him!